_I see them come crowding, crowding,
Children of want and pain,
Dark sorrow their eyes enshrouding
Where joy’s touch should have lain._
_They stand in silence beseeching,
Gaunt faces lifted up
And wan little hands outreaching
For Love’s forbidden cup._
_Their hearts are restless with yearning.
The hearts of my own are stilled,
Their lips are parched and burning
The cups of my own are filled!_
_I cry in love unsatisfied
For these without the fold,
My mother’s arms are open wide
These weary ones to hold._
_What though my arms are open wide,
Only mine own lie near.
Without still stand those long denied,
Compassed in want and fear._
_Bowed with the crown of Motherhood,
I seek that Shepherd of old;
“How can mine own receive the good
With some left out of the fold?”_